


Poor Little Rich Boy

by AngeK15



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:44:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeK15/pseuds/AngeK15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Draco-centric one-shot inspired by a song of the same name by Regina Spektor. I take a delve into the mind of Draco Malfoy as he gets ready for the Yule Ball and what happens there. It doesn't really have much of a plot, but it's just a fun little fic that I had fun writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poor Little Rich Boy

The silver haired boy looked at his reflection in the intricate floor-length mirror in his dormitory room; he buttoned up the last button of his dress robes and stared into his reflection in the mirror. He smiled smugly at himself. Ha! That would show Potter and his dirt-poor friend of his. Draco's mother had sent him rather expensive dress-robes for the Yule Ball. He didn't really care for the Yule Ball, it was just some silly dance for the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and that stupid old fool Dumbledore wouldn't even let everyone enter their names in the Goblet of Fire, but of course Potter would be a competitor, he gets all the glory! Well, it's not like Draco cared after all; Potter was just some stuck-up, self-assured idiot! Anyway, why should he complain? He was nothing like that prick.

"Hurry up, Draco!"

Draco winced at what he thought, in his opinion of the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard, or rather, his 'girlfriend' Pansy Parkinson.

'Shut up, woman' Draco felt like saying to her, 'you're worse than my mother.'

Nevertheless, Draco made his way out of the dormitory, to where Pansy was waiting for him dressed in silk black dress robes. Her pug-like face was covered in dark shimmery make-up, probably charmed so that it would stay for the whole night, which was a shame, since she obviously did not know how to apply make-up properly… or maybe having thick, dark black eye shadow up to your eyebrows was the fashion nowadays. Either way, Draco really didn't care much. He didn't care about anything really, except for humiliating stupid Potter and his friends, the weasel and the beaver.

"Let's go Draco," Parkinson murmured in his ear, in what she supposed was what she thought was a seductive tone, stroking his arm. Draco could smell her vile breath, and he shuddered involuntarily. Parkinson put her hand around his waist, mistaking his shudder as a sign of being cold. Draco tried to slip away from her, but she had an iron grip around his waist, and they exited the common room together to the Great Hall.

An upbeat tune was roaring from the Great Hall, magically charmed, of course to be sound proof outside of anything except the Great Hall for the students that were either too young, or too ugly to get themselves a partner and were holed up in their common rooms for the hole night, like silly losers.

Finally inside, Draco almost couldn't recognise the Great Hall. Gone were the four long tables and the professor's dining table, and at the back of the Hall was a podium with a band of wizards playing a tune Draco recognised from his mother's radio. The lead singer, a witch with ridiculously curly brown hair was singing a song, her voice amplified with the Sonorous charm, she was one of his mother's favourite singers, but he couldn't remember her name, something beginning with an 'R'.

He heard someone grunt behind him, and he knew instantly that it was Crabbe and Goyle. He could feel them towering over him. He looked at them, examining them from head to toe, and they looked ridiculous. They were both in matching sickly green dress robes, and Draco was pleased to see that they hadn't found any partners. Or maybe they took each other as their partners; Draco didn't care much, just as long as they were around to intimidate people. He thought their sizes gave other people a pretty good sign: 'go away, or we'll curse you'

Soon enough, it was time for the Tri-Wizard champions to start the dance. Draco sat down at one of the nearest seats he could find, Crabbe and Goyle flocked behind him, while he watched the four Tri-Wizard competitors take the first dance. The witch stopped singing and walked over to a Grand piano, and started to play a slow tune. He watched Viktor Krum dance with a pretty girl he didn't recognise, Potter with Parvati Patil; looking determined not to step on her feet, Cedric Diggory with Cho Chang, and Fleur Delacour with Roger Davies.

Draco scanned the crowd, looking for Weasley and Granger so he could torment him; no doubt they had taken each other as their partners; the mudblood, and the blood traitor. He found Weasley's unmistakably bright orange directly opposite from him, sitting with a very unhappy looking Padma Patil. That's funny, Draco was sure that he would have asked Granger to go with him. He looked around for her unruly bush of mud brown hair, but could find her anywhere. Most likely couldn't get a date; he though, a smug grin rising to his face…

"Draco? Are you alright, Dracy-poo?" Parkinson cooed. Draco shuddered at the nickname. Would she just shut up for once? He was so sick of hearing her annoying nasally voice all the time.

"What?" Draco snarled.

Parkinson looked a bit taken aback. "I asked if you wanted to dance but you didn't answer."

"Why would I want to dance with you?" He asked harshly, without thinking. He saw the hurt in Parkinson's face, but he didn't care, or at least he thought he did. Deep down, he felt a bit guilty, but then he reminded himself that she was an annoying twat, and he didn't have feelings for her whatsoever.

"Fine then… fine. I didn't want to dance with you anyway." She said. She stood up suddenly and with as much dignity as she could muster sauntered away, over to Daphne Greengrass, where they started gossiping heatedly, eyes flickering over to Draco every so often.

"Poor little rich boy…" He thought he heard Parkinson say. No doubt that they were talking about him. He could feel blood rush up to his pale cheeks. He needed to get out of here. What was so good about the Yule Ball anyway? Just some stupid dance.

He stood up suddenly, and felt Crabbe and Goyle stand up beside him. Did they have to follow him everywhere, like lost puppies? He motioned for them carelessly to sit back down, not looking back at them, and went back to the Slytherin common room.

What a waste of time, he thought, as he made his way down to the dungeons, and said the password which would open to the Slytherin common room.

Inside a few younger students were finishing their homework or playing wizarding games. He saw a little second year girl look up at him, and then glance away just as quickly, he recognised her as Astoria Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass's little sister. He ignored her and went straight to his dormitory, went to the bathrooms, and stripped free of his dress robes and into the shower. The water was cold, no thanks to living almost right under the Black Lake, but slowly warmed up. He relaxed the muscles in his body unclenching. He didn't even realise that he was so tense. He just focused on the water running off his skin and down into the drain.

His shower was quick, and he sighed to himself as he dried himself off with the towel. He supposed he should apologise to Parkinson tomorrow, but quickly decided against it. He never apologised. He shouldn't have to. But then he remembered what she said about him being a 'poor little rich boy', whatever that meant. She was obviously mocking him.

He supposed he could just ignore her for a few days, he didn't really want anything to do with her much, and she always came running back to him in the end anyway. Draco put his silk pyjamas on, courtesy of his dad, and decided that everything would be sorted out in the morning, and finally went to sleep.


End file.
